


On the Roof

by firstiwasliketheniwaslike



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate first kiss, Fluff, M/M, somewhat cannon compliant, the Haus roof
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 08:00:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7161503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firstiwasliketheniwaslike/pseuds/firstiwasliketheniwaslike
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the last kegster of the year and Bitty finds Jack alone on the roof.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On the Roof

**Author's Note:**

> I was reading through the comic *again* and noticed the beach chair and traffic cone on the roof right outside Bitty's room. Then it got me thinking of a romantic fluffy encounter between Bits and Jack on the roof. Then this happened. #sorrynotsorry

The music boomed in his ears. It was the last kegster of the year. The last kegster of Jack’s senior year, to be precise.

Bitty was trying not to think about it. Trying not to think about _him_. He had been failing miserably. How could he not think about Jack Zimmermann? The boy was a puzzle.

For the first year of their acquaintance Bitty was convinced, more times than not, that Jack hated him. Detested him even. This year had been different, though.

This year had been filled with laughter and smiles. Long afternoons spent baking in the kitchen. Leisurely strolls around campus and incidental brushes of the hand. Then there was the oven.

It was a gift from everyone, he knew. All of his teammates had chipped in and replaced old Bessy with a brand new stainless steel Kitchenaid. He had cried. His friends had, apparently, taken bets. Laughs were had all around. Bitty thanked each and every one of them.

Then Lardo came up to him after and told him whose idea it had been. Jacks.

His jaw had practically hit his feet. For Jack to suggest a gift at all was shocking enough, but such a large, thoughtful gift was almost too much for Bitty’s heart to bear. He knew better than to read too much into this. He knew the dangers of falling for a straight boy.

That knowledge didn’t stop the thinking, though. In fact he hadn’t stopped thinking about it since Lardo told him. He also couldn’t stop this aching, sucking feeling in his chest at the thought of no longer sharing a house, a team, a life with one Jack Laurent Zimmermann.

So, on this most celebratory and somber night, Bitty decided to talk to some beer about his feelings. He was three red Solo cups into the night and was swaying rhythmically to the music. Shitty and Lardo were massacring some frat bros at beerpong. Chowder, Dex and Nursey were standing around the keg playing a rousing game of Would You Rather. Ransom and Holster were parked in front of the TV playing video games. And Jack was nowhere to be seen.

Bitty wasn’t surprised by this. After the Kent Parson incident he imagined that Jack’s already tenuous relationship with kegsters was broken for good.

“I AM THE FUCKING MASTER!!!”

Shitty’s exclamation of dominance was followed by Lardo’s long celebratory belch. The raucous noise pulled Bitty from his stream of thoughts and plunged him into another.

_It’s midnight. I better make sure my room is locked._

At this point Shitty was still the only one whose room ever got puked in, but Bitty liked to think that was because he was the only one who consistently forgot to lock it.

As he headed up the stairs he heard his phone ping. Low battery alert.

_Perfect timing, I guess._

As he reached his room, walking to his bedside table to plug his phone in, Bitty noticed a shadow outside his window. More curious than afraid he opened his window and peered out onto the roof.

The beach chair and traffic cone were off to the left as per usual, but just to the right of his window sat a large figure, knees tucked to chest, arms wrapped around knees. Jack.

Bitty felt his heart quicken and his stomach drop.

_What is he doing out here?_

Slowly, Bitty climbed out of his window and onto the roof. It was quiet out here, only the faint thudding of the music audible from outside, the occasional swell of laughter and cheering coming from the open window. For all intents and purposes, looking out over the night, campus was sleeping.

_That’s why he’s out here._

“Hey,” Bitty said, tentatively plopping down beside Jack. He tried to be somewhat graceful, but the conversation he’s had with those beers left his limbs a bit heavy.

Jack turned his head, as if just noticing Bitty’s presence. His face still looked deep in thought, until he met Bitty’s eyes, when a smile spread warmly across his face.

That smile. It pierced his gut every time. How could a smile make Bitty so tense, his stomach clenching, and so relaxed, his limbs and features falling easily into a parade rest, whenever he saw that boy smile?

“Hey Bittle. Hope you don’t mind I’m hanging out here. Don’t worry. I went through the bathroom window. Not your room.”

Bitty just scoffed and waved a hand.

“I wouldn’t have minded.”

Jack smiled back at him and nodded. They fell into a companionable silence. But he was Eric Bittle and Eric Bittle doen’t stay silent for long, no matter how companionable it is.

“So…” he began. “Last kegster of your Samwell career. How’s it feel?”

Jack dropped his arms to his side, a serious look crossing his face, as he stretched out his legs and leaned back. He didn’t say anything.

“I—I mean—you don’t have to say. Ya know, if you don’t want to.”

Jack bit his bottom lip and looked down at his lap.

“I imagine it’s a bit rough. Leaving this all behind and—”

“It’s not that.” Jack interrupted Bitty’s rambling.

“Well, I guess it’s a little bit that. I just—”

Now he looked to the stars, as if they contained the answer he was searching for.

“I’m gonna miss you all. I’m gonna miss Samwell, the Haus, Faber, but…I just couldn’t handle all that.” He waved his hand toward the Haus vaguely. “You know me. I’ve never been one for kegsters. But I’m glad you’re here now.”

Jack smirked at Bitty, who was pretty sure he was blushing. Bittle looked down into his beer, then chugged the remaining dregs, his nerves a bit on edge. Then he had an idea.

“Hey! Check this out.”

Bitty turned his body so his back was to Jack. He rose to his knees and balanced the Solo cup on three finger. He eyed the position of his arm and hand, lining up for the perfect shot. Jack shifted to his knees behind Bitty, assessing what this boy was about to do. Bittle’s hand dipped low then flipped the cup into the air. It launched forward, spinning three times in the air before landing, open mouthed, on top of the traffic cone like a top hat.

“Yes!!!” Bitty threw his hands in the air and turned toward Jack, who was slow clapping behind him. Jack offered up a fist and Bitty bumped his against it before they slumped back down onto the shingles laughing.

“Remind me never to play flip cup with you, Bittle.”

“I would absolutely own you.” Bitty chuckled.

They fell into another comfortable silence just staring out at the night sky. Haus occupants were always careful not to congregate on the front lawn during a kegster. That was a surefire way to get the cops called on you. They were alone.

“Thank you for the oven, by the way.”

_What the fuck? Shut up Bittle. Shut up!_

“What?” Jack looked at him, a bit stunned.

“I—I mean I know everyone chipped in, but Lardo told me it was your idea. So…thanks.”

Bitty slugged Jack’s shoulder in a jovial bro gesture, to mask how he had really felt about the gift.

Jack looked serious for a moment. Almost scared, if Bitty was reading him right, but his features quickly dissolved into a lopsided smirk.

“Well we couldn’t very well go without pie for much longer could we?” He rustled Bitty’s hair and shoved him gently to the side.

“Are you chirping me Jack Zimmermann?” Bitty clucked back, trying to straighten his hair with his fingers.

“Nah,” Jack said patting Bitty on the knee. “I’m just kidding. You deserve it. I wanted you to have it.”

Jack’s hand lingered on Bitty’s knee for beat. Then he snatched it back, as if the rhythm of his fingers was tapping out a secret message Bittle was not privy to. The silence was pregnant as Jack regarded his feet intently, a look of determination on his face.

“I’m proud of you Bitty.” He said, finally breaking the silence.

Bittle stared at him, shocked and still.

“You’ve worked really hard and improved so much since you got here.”

Jack’s voice was rushed, with the cadence of someone trying to get to the end of a speech just so it will be over, looking at his feet the whole time.

“I know I’m not always the most pleasant person to be around and I know for sure I was not always the nicest person to you, but you’ve always been there for everyone, for me. You are always lovely and kind and funny and just—thank you.”

Bitty continued staring at him, mouth hanging open.

“Jack—I—” He was at a loss for words, a lump in his throat blocking any sound from escaping his lips.

With a heavy sigh Jack steeled himself and looked up. What he saw next made his heart ache.

Bitty sat there slack jawed, eyes glassy, where tears pooled, threatening to cascade down his rosy cheeks. With a slight quiver of his lip a solitary tear escaped, dampening Bitty’s face.

“Non,” Jack whispered, reaching over to wipe the tear from his cheek, “Non, mon Coeur. Ne pleure pas.”

Jack was leaning over Bitty now, his large hand cupping Bitty’s face, thumb tracing his cheekbone. Bittle’s breath hitched as he saw Jack’s eyes drop to his lips.

Then Jack leaned his head down and pressed their lips together. Bitty’s heart nearly stopped. The warm soft pressure of Jack’s lips against his poured over him.

Jack’s hand swept around to the back of Bitty’s neck, gently pulling him closer. Bitty’s hand grasped at the side of Jack’s shirt.

Slowly they pulled away, lips parting with a light sweet smack. Bitty gripped tighter to Jack’s shirt, fearful that he would run. That he would realize the mistake he made and dash back through the window.

His fears were quickly assuaged as Jack dipped back down for a second kiss. Bitty wasn’t sure if the pulse he felt in his ears was his or Jack’s. Tentatively he swept his tongue out to taste Jack’s plump lower lip. Jack groaned slightly and nipped at Bitty’s lips.

Jack had wrapped his other arm around Bitty’s waste and Bitty’s other hand was braced against Jack’s chest. Their kisses were a benediction. A confession and a sonnet. They held truth and longing and passion. Bitty thought he would faint.

“ZIMMERMANN!”

Jack and Bitty leapt apart at the booming sound of Jack’s name being called. Bitty could see the fear etched across Jack’s face and his heart sank.

Suddenly Shitty’s head popped out of the bathroom window.

“There you are Zims. Hey Bitty! These frat bros are gettin’ a bit rowdy. Figured we could give ‘em the ol’ one two. Send ‘em packing.”

Bitty turned to Jack, concerned. Were they going to fight? He didn’t like the idea of fighting in the house. He especially didn’t like the idea of Jack in a fight.

Jack just smiled at him softly.

“Don’t worry. No punches. Shitty just wants my help sheepherding the drunkards out of the Haus.”

“Damn straight! Time to give ‘em some of that ice-cold Zimmermann charm!”

Shitty ducked back into the bathroom, disappearing from sight.

Jack and Bitty looked at each other awkwardly for a moment.

“Well—um—I better,” Jack began, pointing off to the bathroom window.

“Oh—Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

They both shuffled up to standing, neither one making a move to actually part ways.

“So I guess I’ll talk to you later then?” Jack said, rubbing the back of his neck with his palm.

“Yeah, okay.” Bitty said again, as if his vocabulary had suddenly dropped by thousands of words. He mentally kicked himself.

Before he could conjure more words from the recesses of his mind, Jack swooped down and planted a swift soft peck to his lips.

“Okay then,” he said, “I’ll find you later.”

Then he was gone.

Bitty stood there, on the roof, unmoving. His lips tingled. His heart pounded. His blood pumped furiously.

Slowly, he raised his fingers to brush his lips, trying to capture the feel of Jack Zimmermann’s lips against his and hold it there forever.

**Author's Note:**

> Hoped you enjoyed! Comments and Kudos greatly appreciated. :)
> 
> *Non, mon Coeur. Ne pleure pas. = No, my heart. Don't cry.


End file.
